


and splashing and reeling and finally feeling

by bestofwaifusbestofwomen



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Birthday Fluff, Carnival, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Oops, Slight OOC, i meant to get this out two weeks ago, takes place in 2020 but an au where 2020 doesnt suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestofwaifusbestofwomen/pseuds/bestofwaifusbestofwomen
Summary: "A hand on his shoulder turns him around abruptly, and Near is halfway to pulling out the pistol he has concealed at his waist for this very reason when'So, it is you, Near!'oh. Gevanni.'Wow, sir, you’ve grown so—' the other man stops, narrowing his eyes at Near’s aborted movement. 'Were… were you about to shoot me?!''I was startled,' is Near’s bland response. He resists the urge to twist his hair.This is why he doesn’t do any goddamn fieldwork."or, near has a nice day
Relationships: Linda & Near | Nate River, Near | Nate River & Stephen Gevanni | Stephen Loud, Stephen Gevanni | Stephen Loud/Near | Nate River
Comments: 11
Kudos: 23





	and splashing and reeling and finally feeling

It’s almost the end of summer when Near pulls on sandals over his socks and Rester’s baseball cap over his hair, tucks all of his hair into a pink and blue windbreaker, slips on a pair of sunglasses, then goes to stand in front of a mirror. He’s almost completely unrecognizable as himself. He’s never worn so many bright colors before, and he finds it to be a bit off-putting. Without even a trace of white on him, was he still ‘Near’?

He’s starting to think this isn’t such a good idea.

Over sticks their head through Near’s doorway, with a, “Bro, what’re you still doing here?! I can’t distract Halle and Rester forever!” Near blinks out of his mild identity crisis. “Go on, get!”

“Overture, I was thinking, maybe this isn’t—”

“L, you think too much,” they say shortly, pointing a stern finger at him. “Stop it, and get out of here before I start hollering for Linda.”

Near wants to refute this statement, because even someone as bullheaded as Over wouldn’t dare to poke the metaphorical sleeping bear in the eye (or, actually, maybe they would. Near sometimes thinks he might’ve chosen a successor a little _too_ similar to Mello. His mistake, honestly) but they’re already pulling him by the sleeve out of his bedroom and sneaking him out the front door, and Near thinks that a teenager shouldn’t be able to push him around so easily. Over waves him off with an exaggerated air-kiss, to which Near’s only response is to stare, perturbed, back at them. “Be impulsive! Do something fun!” 

‘Impulsive’ and ‘fun’ are hardly words that Near would use to describe himself, but he digresses. He gives them a short nod, pulls Rester’s stolen baseball cap a bit more securely over his head, and sets off at a fast pace down and out of the alleyway and into the city.

And, it was important to note, Near hasn’t been outside… in a long time. 

It’s always a somewhat strange experience, leaving his headquarters’ dark, room temperature spaces and bright computer screens, and adjusting to whatever it is the rest of the world decides to throw at him. There are breezes and bright skies, and Near doesn’t usually care about whether or not his hair gets in his face, so long as it doesn’t obscure his vision, but out here, wayward strands of white hair whip his cheeks and get stuck in his mouth. He keeps his mouth shut and his eyes wide, taking in the world around him, and asks himself where he should go. 

Admittedly, this was one of those few things that Near had not taken the time to plan out. 

As he’s wandering down the sidewalk, almost hugging himself to keep from accidentally making contact with anyone else, he spots a cardboard box off to the side. He can hear small sounds coming from it, snuffling sounds and tiny whimpers, and he leans over to look inside, then can’t quite stifle the gasp that escapes him at the sight. 

_IT’S A DOG._

_A VERY SMALL DOG._

_What do I do with this information,_ he thinks. He crouches down closer to the box, and has a staring contest with the puppy. (He wants to pet it.) (He shouldn’t pet it.) (But, _God,_ does he want to.) The puppy is scruffy-looking and collarless— the natural assumption being that it’s been abandoned (and _no,_ he doesn’t want to cry at the thought). What is the procedure for ensuring that abandoned puppies are placed in suitable, loving homes with good and kind owners? 

He calls Linda. 

“I’ve found an abandoned puppy,” he says without preamble. 

“Near, no,” she replies immediately. “Do _not._ ” Then, after a moment of silence, “ _Fuck._ You’re making _that_ face, aren’t you?” He is not, in fact, making _that_ face —as he hasn’t made that face since he was twelve, not that she would know; furthermore, what would be the point in doing so with no one else around to see it?— but he’s certainly not going to tell her that. _That_ face was particularly useful back when he lived at Wammy’s, and had been especially effective against three specific people (one of which was Linda, of course). 

Mello called it cheating. _Near_ calls it ‘using his assets to their full potential.’ 

So no, he doesn’t deny her statement. And then, “Ughhh, _fine,_ ” she says. 

Success!

“I will be there in a short while, then. Please h—”

“O- _on second thought!_ ” He pauses, perplexed, at her interruption. Linda doesn’t stutter. It was unlike her to be anything other than confident and sure, as was the case for most Wammy’s kids. “Maybe you should stay there, Near! Yes, that’s right! Stay there and, um, tell me where you are! I’ll come pick up the puppy, and you should stay out! For like five more hours. Catch those rays and vitamin D, haha!” Most Wammy’s kids were also very capable liars. Emphasis on most. It appears that Linda has gotten worse at it over time. For what reason could she be lying, though?

He considers the date. Ah, that was probably it. August 24th. It’s his birthday. 

Interesting. Following this line of thought, he comes to the conclusion that they must be planning some sort of surprise for him. It makes sense now, why Over and Linda had been so insistent and particular that he went out today _._ He almost wants to tell her that they needn’t bother to do anything too big for him, but prior experience informs him that that might end up offending her. And Near fears no god 

but he does fear Linda. 

He does not say anything to her of the sort, and instead goes, “If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, of course! See you soon!” The line cuts off sharply without Near telling her where he is. 

...so she’s been tracking him. He wonders if she’s been using the CCTV cameras to do so or if she’s placed another tracker on his phone. 

He bends back down and reaches a tentative hand out to the puppy. It sniffs his hand curiously. “It seems we will be parting ways soon. Not to worry. It will only be for a short while,” he says, voice solemn. The puppy yips and licks his fingers. 

He lets himself indulge in a couple of pats to the puppy’s head, and it whines when he hears a voice that is _not_ Linda’s yell, “Near!” and suddenly stands.

He hasn’t heard anyone other than Linda use that name in quite a number of years. For just over a decade now, he’s been ‘L’ to just about everyone who knew him. In fact, the only other person who refused to use his new moniker was Gevanni, who’d resigned several years ago. 

He glances around, wary of his surroundings, and doesn’t see anyone suspicious. He also doesn't consider the possibility that he might be snuck up on. 

Another oversight on his part, really. 

A hand on his shoulder turns him around abruptly, and Near is halfway to pulling out the pistol he has concealed at his waist for _this very reason_ when

“So, it _is_ you, Near!”

oh. Gevanni. 

Speak of the Devil, and He shall come, as they say. 

“Wow, sir, you’ve grown so—” the other man stops, narrowing his eyes at Near’s aborted movement. “Were… were you about to _shoot_ me?!”

“I was startled,” is Near’s bland response. He resists the urge to twist his hair. 

This is why he doesn’t do any goddamn fieldwork.

“Y-you… you can’t just—” Gevanni stops, lips twitching upwards into a slight smile. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised, huh? It’s just strange to see you by yourself. Is Halle not around? Commander Rester?” _Ping!_ He glances down at the phone in his hand, then pockets it.

_Ping, ping, ping!_ Gevanni winces. Near only tilts his head, scrutinizes the older man quietly. “No. I’m by myself.”

“Oh, that’s—” Then, Gevanni gets several _pings_ from his phone in quick succession, and he finally gives Near an apologetic glance before looking down at the screen. He pales instantly, and Near has only seen him do that under one circumstance: while being reprimanded by Agent Lidner.

So she and Commander Rester were, presumably, in on the surprise as well. He _had_ thought it’d been suspiciously easy to get away from Rester’s watchful gaze. _Well, agent? What is it that Lidner’s told you to do?_ There’s a slightly sadistic side to him that is presently _very_ amused, and enjoys watching the older man squirm— Near can’t help the small huff he lets out from his nose.

Gevanni puts his phone away with an overly-bright smile and a nervous laugh. “Hey, sir, why don’t we, uh, walk this way? For a bit? We could, um…” His eyes land on a nearby poster in bright red and yellow colors. “Go to the carnival!”

“Why would I want to go to a carnival?”

Gevanni looks Near in the eye and leans in close. “You can win so many plushies.”

“I’ve been convinced,” replies Near. He thinks, then amends his statement. “But I must wait here for just a bit longer.” The plushies, too, could wait. 

“Why’s that?”

Near crouches back down beside the cardboard box, reaches out and rubs the puppy behind the ears obligingly when it whines, and lets his actions answer for him. 

Gevanni crouches beside him, voice hushed and awed as he whispers, “ _Puppy._ ”

“Indeed.”

The older man lets the puppy sniff his hand, then lick his palm before he whimpers, “Oh, precious _baby._ ” Near grants him a moment to compose himself.

Linda arrives several minutes later, already smiling at Gevanni despite herself, and Near comes to the conclusion that _ah yes,_ she’d been watching the CCTV cameras, then. Upon introducing herself to Near’s former employee, she coos over the small puppy and gathers the box up into her arms. 

“Thank you for doing this, Linda,” he says, after giving the puppy one last gentle pat.

“No prob!” She hip-checks him affectionately as she walks past. “Now, get out of here, twerp. Take O’s advice!”

“That hardly tends to turn out well,” he reminds her reproachfully.

“Try it anyways! Nice to meet you, Stephen! Don’t stay out too late, Near!”

“Even though I no longer look like a child,” he mutters to Gevanni once her back has disappeared from view, feeling petty and petulant, but also saying it low enough that none of the cameras can pick up on it, “she insists upon treating me like one.”

Gevanni snickers. “Yeah, that sucks. I mean, you finally look like you’re almost old enough to drink.”

Near narrows his eyes at the man, who was still giggling to himself. _Clearly_ , Gevanni has gotten too comfortable with poking fun at his former boss. Then, Near’s expression softens. Well, he supposes that’s alright. They’re no longer in a professional relationship, after all, and haven’t been for some time. 

He wonders if they could be called friends, then, instead.

“Oh, by the way,” Gevanni says as they begin walking toward the carnival grounds. “Why are you dressed like that?” He gestures at Near’s windbreaker, and Near pulls some of the pink-and-blue fabric away from himself to examine it. “It’s not bad— no, it’s pretty bad. You look like [that 90s kid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PPzIWFJU_3s) from Vine a couple years ago? ...no? I guess you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about, huh?” 

Near shakes his head.

“Yeah. Well. I’m guessing you didn’t mean to dress like him, then, right?”

“No,” he says. He fiddles with the loose tail of his bracelet. 

“Then… why?”

“Mm.” Near waits until he finishes looping, then unlooping the tail around the rest of the bracelet before answering as Gevanni waits patiently. “I am… someone who clings to familiarity,” he says, finally. “When I was very young, my mother told me that white was the color of grief. Of course, Western viewpoints differ, so many of the other children never understood why I insisted upon wearing white and only white. Somewhere in my mind, I think I believed that doing so would somehow make my family’s death hurt less, or that I would wake up and find that it’d all been a horrible dream.” He pauses, picking out his words, and pulls his hair out of his jacket, letting it fall down the length of his back. “I was often moved from orphanage to orphanage and back again. I had… intricacies, as you know, that they hadn’t the means to deal with. I constantly asked for more books and puzzles and toys; I was too intelligent to be satisfied with anything they provided, which was one thing on its own, but that on top of having to pay for my prescribed eyewares and skin ointments was too much. They called me ‘unruly’ and sent me on my way.”

“You, unruly.” Gevanni smiles. “Imagine that.”

“Yes,” Near agrees. “By the time I arrived at Wammy’s, the color white had been the only constant in my life. It sounds strange to say now, but by that point, I had considered it almost a part of who I was. I still do. Even then, I knew it was irrational, but still I refused to wear anything else. The things children come up with to cope,” he muses, beginning to braid a strand of his hair, going cross-eyed and trusting Gevanni to lead the way. “When Mello died,” he starts, then stops, voice catching in his throat, feeling the weight of the cross hidden under his shirt like a noose around his neck, and abruptly aborts the thought. “I wanted to try being someone new,” he finishes lamely. He keeps braiding.

Gevanni nods like he understands, and Near briefly worries that he’ll prolong the conversation. “We’re here,” he says instead.

Near looks up at the fairgrounds, brushing aside his hair and letting the loose braid unravel in the process. “So we are. You have money, don’t you?” The other man looks stricken. He frantically begins patting down his pockets. “Otherwise this whole endeavor will have been pointless,” Near deadpans.

“I’VE FOUND IT, IT’S OKAY.” Gevanni pulls his wallet out from his fanny pack. “I’ll go get tickets for us. Wait here, please.”

Near waits.

Not even a minute later, a tiny girl with pigtails sidles up to him, cheeks sticky from the fried dough in her hands. “Your hair’s white, mister.” She doesn’t look older than six.

“Yes.” He doesn’t know what else to say.

“That’s cool,” she says, biting into her fried dough and spilling sugar onto the grass. “ _My_ hair’s _magic_.”

He highly doubts this to be true. But, on the off-chance that it _is_ : “Oh?” 

“Yeah.” She leans in close, and Near bends down to listen. “It turns _brown_ in the sun!” She shoves her fried dough into Near’s hands, stepping a bit away to put her hands on her hips. “See, my hair’s black right now, okay? But look!” She hops out of the shade into the sunny clearing and holds up her pigtails. “Now it’s brown! Isn’t that cool?!”

It’s not. What was actually happening was that her black was really a very dark brown, and the pheomelanin pigment present —typically overshadowed by the eumelanin pigment— caused a lighter tone of brown to present itself when hit by direct sunlight. Hardly something to be called ‘magic.’ “It is,” he lies, and she beams at him.

Surprised, he tentatively smiles back. 

“Alice!”

The little girl shrieks, “ _Mommy!_ ” and runs into the arms of a woman by the ticket booths. “Mommy, he has white hair, but he agrees that my hair is cooler. Come see, come see!” Alice begins to tug her mom over to where Near was still squatting in the shade, still holding onto Alice’s sugary treat. Her mother eyes him with suspicion.

He gives them a single wave. 

The little girl returns and retrieves her fried dough, and then her mother hurries her away, lecturing all the while over her complaints. Near’s hand drops. 

Gevanni comes back with a bundle of yellow tickets in his hands. “What was that about, sir?”

He’s silent for a moment. “You think my hair’s cool, don’t you, Gevanni?” He pulls his sleeves over his hand until only his fingers poke out. 

“U-um…? I mean, I do, but…”

“Nevermind,” says Near breezily. 

“I-it’s not like I _don’t_ think it’s cool, don’t get me wrong—”

“I said, ‘nevermind.’”

Gevanni shuts his mouth.

Near weaves a strand of hair between his fingers and over his knuckles, then releases it. He feels awkward. “...I’m glad you made it back safely.”

“But I just went to get—” Gevanni pauses, getting an amused look on his face when he asks, “Did you wanna try an Elephant Ear? I can get one for you.”

“Don’t you just want to see me spill sugar all over myself?” Near returns, then scans the fairgrounds. “Now, where are the plushies?”

* * *

The barrel of the gallery gun twists just slightly left at the end, so Near makes sure to adjust accordingly to the right, and after that, it’s almost too easy to hit the plastic cups off of the shelves. The barrel’s smoking by the time he finishes with the third row, and the attendant’s shakily asking for the gun back and telling him that he could pick out any of the plushies as long as he never came back. 

“I can only take one?” He asks, doubtful. With how many cups he took out, he should get _at least_ three, shouldn’t he?

“You can take as many as you fuckin’ want, man, just— just get outta here.”

Near surveys all of the toys hanging at the top of the booth, then glances back at Gevanni, who already has a couple of plastic bags filled with similar items and an aghast expression at the utter _massacre_ of plastic cups before him. “Gevanni,” Near says. 

The other man snaps to attention. 

He looks back at the toys and regretfully limits himself to four. “We should have thought to bring a wagon.”

Gevanni sags, then stands up straight up again. “Wait a second.” He narrows his eyes at his companion. “Sir, isn’t your aim, like… really bad?”

Near raises his eyebrows at him, already holding plushies of a teddy bear, a frog, and a truly disgusting Minion within his arms. “Why do you say that?” He reaches for a pterodactyl to complete the set.

“Well, it’s just... I remember you used to have all those _darts_ and you would aim them at the board and miss every single one. And then, either Ratt or I would have to collect them all off the floor for you.” Gevanni catches sight of Near’s sudden smirk. “Don’t tell me you— You did that on _purpose?!_ ”

Near’s smirk softens into a smile. “Please don’t misunderstand. As you’ve seen, I have certain needs that I’m sure other employers don’t require from their employees. It can become tedious, and it isn’t as though many CIA agents are trained to be caretakers… Whatever it was you all signed up for, the reality turned out to be quite different, did it not?” He picks at a loose string on the pterodactyl’s foot, thoughtful. “And I am… quite useless without others around to help me. I had to see if you would be able to put up with everything I asked you to, even if it seemed silly or ridiculous… It was a necessary measure.” The smirk returns. “Oh, and it was funny.”

Gevanni doesn’t seem to be paying attention to the jibe, though, and Near is somewhat unsettled by the earnest look in his eyes as they make eye contact. “You’re not useless, Near. Not in any sense of the word.”

“That’s hardly the point—”

“No, I know! I just…” Gevanni shifts his bags all into one hand, running his other hand through his dark hair. “Needing help for things like that— it doesn’t make you useless. Needing help in general isn’t a bad thing, and I’m sorry you ever thought…” He trails off, then starts again, “No, nevermind. But I _do_ want you to know that you’ll always have people around to help you. You have a lot of people that care about you. I-including me.”

Near blinks. “Gevanni, you don’t work for me anymore,” he gently reminds him. 

“ _I know that too!_ ” Gevanni yells in response, already flushed cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “I mean…” He quiets and rubs the back of his neck. “As a friend. I care about you as a friend.” Then, he turns serious again, the setting sun washing him in colors of fire and life and loyalty, and Near, he— “I don’t ever want you to feel as though you’re alone. Okay?”

(...Near goes breathless.)

Near turns away without answering, and instead says, “It’s been a while now. I suppose it’s time we head back.” He begins to walk away. 

“Oh, um. Okay, sir.” 

Gevanni moves to follow after him, but then Near adds, “It's been bothering me for a while, but you needn’t call me ‘sir,’ anymore, Gevanni. ‘Near’ is fine.” He looks back over his shoulder at him. “It’s alright if we’re friends, after all, isn’t it?”

The other man blinks owlishly at him, then breaks out into a grin. “Yes! Just ‘Stephen’ is okay, too!”

“Mm. Let’s go home, then, Stephen.”

* * *

“ _Happy birthday, L!_ ” Ah, so _there’s_ the promised surprise.

Near steps through the doorway with Stephen in tow, looking around at the confetti littering the floor and the streamers haphazardly hanging over computer screens. There’s a table set up in the middle of the room with a cake —half unfrosted— sitting on top; surrounding it is a collection of Near’s finger puppets. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble…”

Linda starts her finger-wagging. “Don’t even start! We _wanted_ to do this for you, so I don’t wanna hear a word!”

Over bounds toward Near, peering at his toys with interest. “L, where’d you get so many _toys?_ ” They glance up at Stephen, who’d stepped around the pair of them to place the rest of Near’s winnings off to the side, then add in a whispered tone, “And where’d you pick up such a cute guy?”

“Stephen,” Near says, catching the man’s attention, “is a former employee of mine. He accompanied me to the carnival today.”

“Scandalous.”

Near gives them a stern look, but doesn’t deign to give them a response, and instead says, “Stephen, this is Overture. I’m training them to take over for me as L once I retire.”

“’Sup!” Over sticks out a friendly hand that Stephen doesn’t hesitate to shake. “You like banjos?”

“Um— no.”

Halle laughs as she enters the room. “Pity, that. O loves them.” She goes to help Near set his plushies with the rest of his bags and takes him aside to debrief him in her usual professional manner, “The puppy has been cleaned and fed, and it appears to be in good health. Commander Rester has already made arrangements to bring it to the animal shelter tomorrow morning.”

Near nods, stubbornly stoic. “Good work, Agent Lidner. I’ll be sure to thank the commander as well.”

Halle’s face softens. “Did you want to see the puppy?”

“Yes,” he replies. 

She chuckles, redirecting him toward the kitchen area where Rester has an apron on over his trousers and the puppy is asleep on a soft pile of blankets and pillows nearby. It’s a strangely domestic scene that includes a neatly-swept floor, a variety of soapy pots on the counter, and a very buff man standing in the middle of it all up to his elbows in mostly-clean dishes. 

Rester wipes his hands on his apron, stiffly nodding in greeting. “Sir.” 

“Commander Rester,” Near says. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

“Yes. Please make sure to eat some of the food before you—” But Near is already sinking to the floor next to the puppy, knees cracking and popping grossly as he folds into his usual sitting position. Rester sighs. “Nevermind.”

“Will you—” Rester leaves the area, then returns with a tennis ball and a deck of tarot cards that he hands to his employer. “Ah. Thank you.” The man nods again, this time making to leave and rejoin the others, but he pauses when Near adds, “Please be sure to set some of your cooking aside for me, as well.”

At that, the older man smiles warmly. “Of course, sir. I’m glad you made it back safely.” He leaves. 

Near takes out his cards. 

He shuffles them, then after a second’s contemplation, sets out three cards facedown. He flips over the leftmost card. Four of Swords in reversed position (representing inaction and exhaustion). Then, the Empress, reversed as well (encouraging self-care… did Rester mess with his cards again?) Finally, the Fool is flipped over, upright (...signifying new beginnings). Past, present, and future. [Hm.](https://cat-soda.tumblr.com/post/627723799371169792/roaraito-its-not-a-meme-if-im-serious)

He is shaken out of his musings when the puppy sniffles, then sneezes and wakes itself up. It lets out a high bark before catching sight of him and wagging its tail expectantly. 

“Hello.” Near lets it sniff his hand before reaching to rub behind its ears. “Did you sleep well?”

The puppy answers him with a huff and sleepy eyes. 

“Perhaps not well enough, then.” He continues rubbing in the hopes of having it fall back asleep, but it shakes off his hand and clambers into his lap to bite at the tennis ball. “If you’re still tired, then you should go back to sleep.” The puppy pushes the ball around with its nose and Near’s advice goes thoroughly ignored. 

“That’s pretty ironic, coming from you,” Linda pipes up from where she’s leaning against the doorway. She can’t have been standing there for long; Linda always manages to announce her presence as soon as humanly possible, often without meaning to. 

“Linda.”

“That’s my name!” She sits down cross-legged beside him, and pets the puppy as she asks, teasingly, “And what do the cards say today, O Wise One?”

“That Linda should mind her own fucking business,” Near shoots back flatly. He gathers up his cards, shuffles them again, then starts stacking them together while Linda giggles. 

A few minutes of silence pass where Linda watches as he lays the groundwork for a rather uninspired cylindrical shape before she asks, voice uncharacteristically soft, “Can I help?”

“If you’d like.”

She nods, then takes out three of Near’s finger-puppets from her pocket —one black-haired, one brunet, and one blond— and doesn’t answer Near’s inquiring glance. She only smiles and shifts to stack cards together with steady hands. And when they’ve run out of cards, and the cylindrical structure looks awfully similar to a ruined Roman Colosseum, she picks up those three figurines and places them neatly in the middle. Near meets the gazes of the miniature Matt, Mello, and L —the real L— and doesn’t look away. 

“Like fallen gladiators,” he mumbles out loud. 

She shrugs. “They’d be proud of you, I think. Of the person you’ve become.”

“You’re optimistic.”

“Someone has to be.”

The puppy had fallen back asleep at some point with the tennis ball still half-hanging out of its jaw, so Linda gently pries the ball out as Near twists a strand of hair around his finger and tries to get lost in his thoughts. Then, Linda lays her head on his shoulder and entwines their hands together in a loose hand-hold that Near stops himself from pulling away from, and she says, “I really do think they’d be proud, y’know. I’m not just saying that.” 

He hums in response. 

“And if they’re not, then,” she squeezes slightly, “Rester and Lidner and O and I —that Stephen guy, too— we’re more than proud enough for all of them.” 

With that, she relaxes into him fully, watches as he starts braiding that strand of hair, still wearing Rester’s baseball cap and Linda’s friendship bracelet and the gaudy windbreaker that Stephen didn’t like, and Near almost believes her. “...thank you, Linda.”

“Hey, Near?”

He rests his head against hers. “What is it?”

“Did you have a good day today?”

The cap, the bracelet, the jacket, Overture’s overzealous hands and Lidner’s lipstick smirk, the sunset and Stephen’s warm blue eyes, and three finger-puppets, and idly, Near wonders what L would think. He decides it doesn’t matter. Near curls his fingers around Linda’s, and says, with a peculiar upturn of his lips, “I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> i meant to get this out sooner but im really slow and this oneshot went thru a couple rewrites tbh,,,,, its still not exactly where i want it to be, but i think its pretty okay for what it is. this is my first time writing such a smart character haha, i wonder if i did okay ^^; i definitely had some trouble with writing him as true to his character as per canon vs the idea of him i had in mind, and i ended up going with what the near in my head wanted, so hes prolly a little ooc. lets be honest, why would near ever wanna go outside anyways, lol? the pacing i also felt was a little weird, and the oneshot also didn’t exactly have a running theme throughout, which is a shame, and i kinda wanted to make callbacks and references and stuff like that, but i suppose it follows the kind of “day in the life” feel that i wanted near to experience, so oh well! it was fun, anyways! hnnn okay i havent started my hw yet so im gonna go do that, but pls let me know what you think!
> 
> oh, some songs that i was thinking of while writing this: [Answer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qpe3CzI8oHc); [When Will My Life Begin? (Reprise 2)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fVcwXbAWtA)


End file.
